


sin can make a better man

by sultrygoblin



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - just one caress from you and i'm blessed
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader
Kudos: 10





	sin can make a better man

**Author's Note:**

> this just popped in my head. i’m sorry guys. i’m just so into pedro! reader is injured in someway during the whole debacle. it’s just vague plot.

You laid in the tub until the water cooled, you in his lap, arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder. Nothing but silence. Basking in each other and the shadowed city lights that filtered through the curtains into the dark hotel bathroom along with a few candles he’d managed to find in the market place. That’s where it changed. Helping you carefully out of the tub and beginning the task of patting you dry. Testing the plains of your body for what hurt, what ached, and what didn’t. Watching her head fall back and a quiet hum fall from your lips when he passed between the valley of your breasts. 

“Have I ever told you how strong you are?” hurrying the towel over his own skin with barely an ounce of the same effort he had put into yours.

“That,” running your fingers through his curls when he worked at his legs and tossed the towel to the side, “That would be a new one,” raising your eyebrows at him when he finally stood straight. 

“I should’ve told you more often,” his knuckles brushing along your cheek, “I should say _a lot_ of things more often,” the hint of a laugh makes you smile when he holds your face in his hands, “ _Make me_. Even when I don’t want to.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” one hand gripping his wrist, the other returning to the unruly hair so often tucked beneath his cap, “But thank you.”

“ _Always_.”

His lips are on yours in an instant. Soft, gentle, as he’d come to discover he liked more than he thought he might. It’s all he’s been allowed as you heal. He can always feel you smile against his lips when it begins, giving a little sigh you think he doesn’t notice and has come to desperately need. You take a wobbly step backwards towards the room, his arms slip around you to keep you steady but it doesn’t distract him from the task of trailing kisses along your neck and jaw. It’s not slow but languid. Careful steps as you lavished each others cheeks, shoulders, he holds most of your weight. When he eases you back against the bed you’ve returned your lips to his, happily plundering his mouth with contented hums. It was different but it drew the same animalistic growl from deep in his chest as it might if it were him. Frankie wanted to grip, to bite, but couldn’t, that wasn’t what this is. And he found comfort in that.

How long had it been since he’d had anything tender? _Never_. He’d never been like this. Not for long at least. Not with you.

He lays beside you on the bed, one hand holding up his hand, the other tracing the curves of your torso. You turned carefully, slinging your leg over his, dropping a hand on his hip. Both of you lay there, simply admiring the other, allowing yourself the calm and silence until you’re sure sunrise can’t be too far off. 

“Do we have to leave so soon?” murmuring his own thoughts when he peppered kiss along your neck, “I want to keep you,” your words fading when brushed his lips across the swelling curve of your breast.

“Then stop running,” he whispers, breath ghosting along your skin before he rolled to hover over you.

His lips return to your flesh, but only his lips. A new kind of torture he’d never considered and now will never forget. You reached for him and he pulled away completely, forcing a huff of frustration and a pout from beneath hooded eyes. He held his breath, it was easier than trying to steady it. Carefully he grips first one wrist and then the second, lifting them over your head and pushing them into the mattress. You expect him to hold them there, keeping you still against his rough treatment as you are used to. He’s tempted to pull a straining nipple between his teeth, prove your theory correct. But he doesn’t, hands slipping down your arms and back against the bed as his lips moved lower. You gasp at each peck, sure that this one will be the last before he finally destroys you but it is always followed by another barely there touch of his lips. Down your stomach, over your mound, till he settle himself between your thighs. Your breath hitches, Frankie feels that familiar tickle. The one that tells him to tease you. But he couldn’t anymore, not when you were so wet and wanting.

He’d never heard you cry out louder than when his tongue finally dipped between your folds and brushed your clit, “Jesus Christ _,_ Frankie,” fingers curling in the sheets, “ _Fu-uck,_ I missed you,” something about the words tangled in that wonderful whine made him ravenous.

He pulls your legs over his shoulders, lips tight around that sensitive little bud, and slipping his middle finger into you slowly. Your lower back arched, just a light buckle, but it was enough to push his face farther into paradise. He hadn’t put that off limits and he didn’t plan to. Instead he slipped another finger inside you.

“Frankie,” somewhere between a desperate mewl and a quiet gasp.

But it’s all he needs to move his hand faster, planting sloppy kisses back up your mosaic torso. He watches your fist clench, your teeth dig into your bottom lip. 

“I don’t remember you being this tight,” his lips grazed the shell of your ear, thumb beginning to make slow circles on your desperate clit.

All you wanted was to touch him. Every nerve ending was on fire and it felt incredible. Even through the pain. Leaving you just at the edge but never tipping you over. Your heels dug into the bed, every brush of his lips was electrifying.

“3 years,” you managed to gasp, the implication clear.

He stopped, “You didn’t...?” his pupil blown gaze boring into you and all you could manage was a shake of your head, “Not even once?” another shake, perfect breasts rising and falling as you panted, “ _Good girl_.”

It sends you tumbling over the edge and it’s fucking beautiful. He missed this. Watching you come undone underneath him. The right touch, the right word, and the badass slipped away, leaving you putty in his hands. Frankie realizes, watching you ride out the come down against his hand, that he wasn’t much different. If this is what got _every night..._

_“Please_ ,” you gasp desperately.

He shouldn’t. He should keep you like this. Keep making you lose your mind over and over until you passed out and quietly take care of himself.

“I missed you so much,” you’re pleading for him while his hand never ceases its assault on your senses.

He rolls you, back to his chest, lips still pressed to your ear, leg slung once more over, “We shouldn’t do this,” that same dark voice that sent a fresh wave of wetness between your legs, “I could hurt you,” fingers disappearing to be replaced by his straining cock rubbing against your soaked lips.

“I trust you.”

Somehow that meant more than any words that had come before, even love. Pulling your hips back slightly and angling his own, he slid into you slowly. It had been too long since he’d been inside you. And even with all his furious effort you were still so tight around, like your first time all over again.

“Te eché de menos,” he groaned against your skin, pushing until he was fully inside you.

All you could do was pant and moan, every word you’d ever known gone from your mind. You’d never felt this before, so open and vulnerable yet somehow grounded and indescribably safe. You reached carefully behind you, taking your own steadying grip on his hip before grinding back against him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” it was his turn to cry out, feeling you grip him tighter than ever before and roll along his shaft in a way that made fireworks burst in front of his eyes, “Again, mi vida, again.”

You did. Over and over until he began to match your movements with his own thrusts. He couldn’t watch you face, you couldn’t cling to him, but it didn’t matter. Undulating against each other as something new coiled between the two of you. You were desperate for release, his, yours, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you were grinding harder against him.

“HArder,” you shriek, “Please,” he craned your neck at an angle that you’d both regret later, “ _Frankie_ ,” you’re almost crying, whatever you’re chasing is so close.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, he hopes he hasn’t, but he can’t help himself from doing just as you asked. Driving harder and deeper into you than he ever thought possible in this position. Your nails dug into his hips, driving him even harder. He barely hears the obscene slapping of their skin over the cries that were coming from you now. Your pussy gripped him like never before and what had coiled finally snapped.

You entire body seized and clamped down on him. He’s exploding in you before he knows what’s happening. But she’s not done, every nerve ending seemed to crackle and pop. You didn’t even seem to know this spot inside you existed, it overwhelms you. Tears fall as his cock head and cum beat that beautiful spot over and over. He continues to push into you, even as he begins to soften, until you’ve crashed down with the wave. It leaves you a limp, panting, sweaty mess in his arms. 

“You okay?” he asks, equally out of breath but considered at the sudden assault on your body.

You shook your head, swallowing hard, “I think you’ve finally fucked me to death.”


End file.
